Done With My Poisonous Family
The year I turned fourteen, I got a little sister.
From then on, I never had a single normal birthday.
When I turned fifteen, she stomped my cake to mush, and my parents praised her for being lively and bold.
When I turned sixteen, she claimed every present my friends gave me as her own, and if I so much as touched one, she hit me. My parents praised her for knowing her own mind.
When I turned seventeen, while the whole family was singing "Happy Birthday," she stole the candles and set my room on fire. My parents praised her for being smart.
On the morning I turned eighteen, I opened my eyes to find the body of the little stray puppy I always fed lying in the middle of my bed.
Terror a